


Classic Tastes

by scheherazade



Category: Tenimyu RPF
Genre: M/M, Other background pairings implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 02:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8185291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scheherazade/pseuds/scheherazade
Summary: Masa taps the beer bottle thoughtfully against his lips.
“Minakei,” he says finally. “Takki.” And, with what can only be described as a shit-eating grin, “Kane-chan.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> The game in question, for anyone who doesn't know, is [marry/fuck/kill](http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=MFK). Originally posted at tumblr.

Masa taps the beer bottle thoughtfully against his lips.

“Minakei,” he says finally. “Takki.” And, with what can only be described as a shit-eating grin, “Kane-chan.”

“One of these is not like the others,” Tohru points out.

“Lots of ways one’s not like the others. But which one are you talking about?”

“Kei-chan’s face puts him at a major disadvantage.”

“So’s anyone’s, compared to Takiguchi.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“I do speak for myself,” Masa says cheerfully. “And for anyone with eyes. I mean, come on. The man’s like an otome game character come to life.”

“Just because you’re not into guys like Kanesaki.”

“And you are?”

Tohru shrugs, which makes Masa pause, drink halfway to his lips. 

“Wait, seriously? You’re into _that_?”

“What can I say.” He contemplates his wineglass. “I have classic tastes.”

Masa snorts so hard he nearly chokes on his beer. “Okay, Kane’s a lot of things, but _classic_?”

“Don’t be a hater.”

“I haven’t an ounce of hate in me,” Masa says with a perfectly straight face, and Tohru laughs despite himself. “I’m all about the love. So back on topic: Minami, Takiguchi, Kanesaki. Choose.”

“I still think we should amend the choices.”

“I already let you change ‘kill’ to 'fight’, what more do you want?”

“So many things, but that’s beside the point.” He refills his glass. “It’s not like I can actually marry any of these people. Legally speaking.”

“Use your imagination.”

“I’m a pragmatist.”

“Sure, and you only wear that bleeding heart on your sleeve because it’s fashionable this season.”

“And every season.”

Masa rolls his eyes. “Fine. Change it to fuck, fight, or attempt a real relationship with. Happy?”

“Mm.” Happy – they’re not ready to talk about a word like that. Not yet. He lingers briefly over a sip of wine. “Fight Takki, because I’d win, date Kei-chan, and take Kane for the night of his life.”

“Sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“I’ve had glowing reviews. Your turn: Furukawa Yuuta, Hashimoto Taito, Aiba Hiroki.”

A pause. Masa scowls. “You think you’re really funny, huh.”

“Doesn’t matter if you’ve already slept with any or all of the above.”

“I’ve never slept with – oh, shut up. Fight Aiba, date Yuuta, cheat on him with Taito.”

“Wow.”

“Whatever. He’d probably be sleeping with Hide on the side.”

“Why are you dating him again?”

“I’m not. Moving on.” Masa thinks about it for a second. “Kazuki. Shirota. Yagami.”

“Fight Ren-chan for Kazuki,” Tohru says, and Masa starts laughing. Laughs harder when he adds, “One-night stand with the straightest douche alive, but I’ll take the hit for a nice boyfriend.”

“Lie back and think of Katobe,” Masa snickers. “Sounds like the motto of tiny Hyouteis everywhere.”

“It’s a little creepy how much they idolize him.”

“I mean, can you blame them?”

“Would you?”

“Blame them?”

“Date Kazuki.”

“Nah,” says Masa. “Not my type.”

His tone is just a shade too casual to be actually convincing.

“Ota Motohiro,” Tohru says next. “Kubota Hidetoshi. Aiba Hiroki.”

“Date Mokkun, use Kubota, fight Aiba. And fuck you.”

“I’m not an option.”

“Because you’re a pragmatist?” Masa doesn’t seem to want an answer. He doesn’t wait for one, at any rate. “Mio. Masuda. Genki.”

“How about no thanks.”

“Not an option. Choose.”

“Make an honest woman of Mio-chan. Fight Genki, because he wouldn’t even buy me dinner first.”

“And Masu would?”

“If only because he also wants to eat.”

“I wonder,” says Masa, which doesn’t make much sense. Then again, Masa never really made sense to him; Masa just made him happy, nonsensical and terrifying as it was.

He puts down his wine. “Uehara Takuya. Rachi Shinji. Aiba Hiroki.”

Masa doesn’t even blink. “Date Takkun. Already slept with Rachi-san. Still fighting Aiba. Try again.”

“Kazuki. Kane. Aiba.”

“Fuck Kazuki. Date Kane. Fight Aiba.”

“What happened to Kane not being your type?”

“Some guy told me I should brush up on my classics.”

“Sounds like a guy with excellent taste.”

Masa snorts, but he’s smiling at the empty beer bottle in his hand. He puts it aside, with the other ones they’d gone through.

“You,” says Masa, “have terrible taste in men.”

“Like you can judge.”

“I think I’m uniquely positioned to judge, considering.”

“Considering what?”

Masa looks at him, across a table, the way he’s done before; older but no more certain, and honestly, they should have had this figured out long ago.

Masa says, “Considering one of them was me.”

Which, well.

And it’s semantics, maybe – or even a slip of the tongue – but if they’re going to talk about this then there’s a couple things he needs to say. 

Starting with, “Not was.” And, “Still are.” 

Masa doesn’t look away, doesn’t quite smile. “My point exactly.”

“Fishing for a compliment? You’re proof that I have excellent taste, and always did.”

“I wasn’t, actually.”

“Then what do you want me to say?”

The smile that finally curves Masa’s lips is crooked. “I don’t know. I’m really shit at this.”

“Yeah, well.” They both are, probably. “I can’t believe you’d rather date Kane than Kazuki.”

“I’d rather sleep with Kazuki than with Kane. Not that I particularly want to do either.”

“What _do_ you want to do?”

“What are my options?”

And they’re still not ready to talk about things like _happiness_ , probably; but there’s an open invitation in the way Masa’s looking at him now. Tohru says,

“Rachi Shinji. Aiba Hiroki. Or me.”

“Fuck Aiba.” Masa’s smiling. “Fuck Rachi.” The way he says it leaves no uncertainty. “And I think we’ve had more than enough fights already, so how about you come home with me instead?”

It’s not really an option, in the strictest sense of the word: an option implies he could have said no. 

It doesn’t matter. Or he doesn’t care. Semantics.

He says, “Yeah,” because he wants to. Because Masa asked. “All right.”


End file.
